


black-banded sea krait

by harmfulmyths



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Complicated and Unhealthy Relationships to Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Lowercase, Snakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23179609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmfulmyths/pseuds/harmfulmyths
Summary: leon doesn't want this.
Relationships: Kuwata Leon/Maizono Sayaka
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	black-banded sea krait

at 11.58 in the morning, leon finally pulls himself together and slithers out of his room. he sleeps late, and showers long, and it takes him a while to paint his face on -- maybe he's fishing for excuses, but hope's peak doesn't give a shit about attendance, and besides, he really just doesn't want to go to class. so nowadays, he rarely emerges from his room before lunchtime. as it stands, it still takes him too long to walk to the cafeteria. if it's his first meal of the day, can he still call it breakfast?

when he gets there, most of his class is already eating. definitely lunchtime, for them. all at one table, except for togami and fukawa -- and thank fuck for that, leon doesn't need her spewing provocative shit all over the place when he's trying to eat, doesn't need to hear a dozen stories about kneeling, wet, for her white knight. unfortunately, fucking yamada and the twins are still there, but leon can deal. he can.

a few of the dudes wave over at him, gesture for him to join them, curled around the end of their table. leon raises a hand to them, flashes a quick grin. the guys here… eh, they're friendly enough. bros. buddies. just guy friends, yanno?

the seat next to maizono is open. he slips in next to her, and she slips her hand onto his thigh. pressure pulses through his lower body, and he gazes at her through thick eyelashes. he can't help but let a smile play across his face.

bros before hoes was never his motto.

naegi flashes him a look that's somewhere between sad and bitter, before turning back to the other guys. he likes maizono -- leon's certain of this. leon's certain naegi is better than he is. leon's certain that naegi would be a better boyfriend than leon would ever be -- not that he's actually maizono's boyfriend, a fact she's made very clear..

but, fuck, leon needs this, in a way he's certain that naegi doesn't understand. because naegi doesn't know that leon's nothing without some girl to wrap himself around. he doesn't know how much of himself leon has ripped out. he's taken so much away to keep kanon and baseball in his life. and now, he's had to tear out kanon, and baseball, and he's an ocean chasm where a person might have been. a void to be filled, with shitty junk food and girls, girls, leon's nothing if he can't have a girl to himself.

girls -- girls are everything to leon.

a girl is kind of like a personality, but better. having a girl means leon's got a certain structure in his life. he's a people-pleaser, really, and nothing gives him the same thrill as watching a shy smile break like waves across a girl's face, as she looks up through pale eyelashes at him. nice girls… god, nice girls, nothing makes leon feel as whole as a nice girl. leon would do anything to make a girl happy -- leon would become anything to make a girl happy. he doesn't like much of anything other than--

maizono's hand glides somewhere he didn't expect. he jerks together, smashing his knees against the bottom of the table, and ishimaru shoots him this look, all the way from the other side of the table.

_man-whore_ splatters across leon's mind, like thin and watery bile, but he chokes it back down. chastised, he turns to his food, and scarfs down what he can. he keeps dropping food, and it feels like everyone's eyes are on him -- maizono smiles delicately, and he lets his shoulders relax a little. she makes him feel like there's no one else there, no one judging him.

he picks a few pieces of fish from maizono's plate, and she smiles at him, and stands up. "i'm heading back to the dorms," she says, voice delicate as ocean spray suspended mid-air, and drops her hand onto his shoulder. heat spikes its way up leon's spine.

a few minutes later, he clears his plates, lets them clatter on the cafeteria counter, before running back to the glowing-red womb of the dorms.

maizono's waiting there for him, and he knows what she wants, fumbles inserting his key into the lock, doesn't turn it quite far enough. he gets the door open, and pulls her inside, pulls the door closed behind them.

they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, like the world's ended and they're the last two people left standing on the shore. they might as well be, leon thinks -- who does he have, right now, other than maizono? what else is he? he wants to drown himself in her, become whatever she needs -- become useful, incredible, her unforgettable superstar, instead of just kuwata-fucking-leon, who can't get up before noon. he wants--

she pulls away. "i'm going to take a shower," maizono says, voice dripping with implication, and leon's heart plummets to the bottom of his stomach. he can't say no.

he cleans up, a little, while she's busy prepping herself. sex should be special like that. tugs his bedsheets into some semblance of order. shoves some clothes into a corner.

leon's been to third base, in more ways than one, but he's never quite adjusted to either. the first time he tried to have sex with a girl was fucking hell. so was the second, and the third, and eventually leon kind of just gave up on enjoying sex, and it became one of those things he does without really being too present, like when he's stepping up to bat and suddenly everything whites out except for the crashing vibration of hitting a ball going a hundred miles an hour -- and hell, leon hates baseball, right, but it's still the same overwhelming physical sensation as when he... obtains release.

the big difference between baseball and sex is that chicks will actually notice if he disappears too far while fucking them.

water stops rushing. wet feet pat across tiled floor.

"hi," maizono-chan whispers, and ghosts her hands up leon's arm.

leon's eyes flutter shut. fuck. he can't deal with this bullshit. it hurts too much -- it hurts too much to remember.

what he's remembering, he's not sure, because he stamps it out before it can enter the field of his mind; it's lurking around the edges, waiting for him to let his guard down, so it can slip its way in before he notices. he can't relax, not as her fingers worm into his flesh, her breath hot on his bare neck. he feel rotten, corpselike.

maizono's hair is still a little damp. but her skin is dry, and clean, and he can smell the scent of his own shitty blueberry perfume clinging to her -- she must have sprayed it on, in lieu of using his deodorant. thank fuck. leon hates the smells of the human body. they remind him too much of the reek of the baseball field, vicious boys coated in sweat and ever-so-precious dirt. summers spent outdoors, baking under the beaming sun. the way his entire body would be covered in hot, sticky, salty fluid, the way he would creep into awareness of his own shaking, aching muscles as they threw another thousand fungoes at him -- the way her piercing golden eyes watched every drill. muscle and sinew could never shield him from view. baseball and sex.

he breathes deeply. he tastes the soapy air on the roof of his mouth. she smells like chemically faked blueberry. she smells clean.

he rolls on the condom, drops the foil wrapper onto the floor. he can pick it up later.

the worst part of sex is the part where he has to be in charge. where he's taking care of the girl under him -- and don't get him wrong, leon loves to take care of his girl, but there's something about the way they still during sex that makes him feel like he's going to fuck up and ruin them. _tuna_ , he's heard other guys whisper, in praise of a girl who fucks like a delicacy. he's heard other boys talking, their eyes wide like those of dead fish at market, gleaming lifelessly under pale light. locker room talk.

when he looks down at maizono, her skin is deathly pale, her eyes closed. her lips parted, expressionless. her small breasts fall to the sides. she's so still, she might as well be a corpse. it feels like there's a knife in leon's chest. it's his job to make her feel good -- he has to make this good for her.

he has to.

he blinks, once, twice, and starts fucking her.

it's mindless. there's got to be something fucked with him. there has to. has to be.

her muscles rhythmically clench around him, her face slack, relaxed with joy.

he's supposed to be enjoying this. he should enjoy this. he's such a slut, and he's horny all the goddamn time, and -- god, fuck, he's awful, he's as bad the perverts he hates -- there must be something wrong with him, for fucking wanting sex all the goddamn time. shit, fuck, it's his fault kanon's so messed up, isn't it? he must have wiped some of his disgusting immortality off on her -- she's too good, he loves her, he can't imagine why she'd hurt him otherwise. lips on his neck. leon fucks down, towards this girl's spine. snakes himself deep into her. the way -- the way yamada exists in space -- it pisses him the fuck off, a disgusting fatty who rolls dirt in his mouth, spews garbage -- and leon's not any better, is he, not with his fucking strategy meetings with naegi --

the girl under him lets out a muffled while, her slick entrance pulsing wildly.

it's like -- kanon, everything always comes back to kanon, and the way he couldn't get away from her feather-light touches. fuck -- if he tried harder, maybe he'd find the words to save her, to get her to understand just how… immoral that shit was. Immoral, immoral, immoral -- he didn't deserve it, but kanon wasn't trying to hurt him -- so why couldn't he make her _STOP_ \--

he doesn't come.

leon pulls out of the girl, pulls off the condom, not bothering to tie it off. it's covered in her slick, slippery, and he drops it to the floor like it's a slimy fish ripping its way out from a little boy's hand, desperately flopping away from capture, back into the sea spray.

he'd seen an _erabu umi hebi_ in the wild once, when he was a kid, on vacation with his family to the ocean. him and kanon had strayed pretty far from the adults, because leon had wanted to go catch some fish to keep as pets, because that's the kind of thing little boys decide they want to do, he supposes, before the world decides to expect things from them. so they'd wandered off, clambered over rocks and halfway scraped up their hands, trying to find any animal of interest, when kanon had stilled behind him, and he'd followed her gaze. the sea snake was maybe three meters in front of them -- maybe less.

it was huge, black, well over 120cm, its head occasionally bobbing above the surface. its eyes -- its eyes were the most horrific thing he'd ever seen. dull, and brown, soulless things. its eyes looked through leon, like he didn't even matter. he'd been frozen with terror, some inborn instinct that told him not to startle a wild animal. watched it move, slowly, swimming through the low tide, back towards the deep sea. carefully, he'd started to back away, shielded kanon's weak, shivering form behind him.

they'd run home after that, crying, sobbing -- told the whole story to their parents, cradled safely in their arms.

snakes like that weren't really supposed to be on the shorelines -- they lived in corals, his uncle had said. poor thing, so lost and scared, his aunt had said. damn global warming, his father had said. leon hadn't really listened.

it was the first time he'd really realized how fragile his life was.

maizono's sitting on the edge of his bed, one leg tucked beneath her, and stares down at him. a strand of her hair, dark blue-black like the ocean at night, falls over her naked breasts. "kuwata-kun?" her voice is somehow smaller, squeakier than normal. "kuwata-kun, are you okay?"

shit. fuck. damn.

leon's hands are shaking. he curls them into fists. he can see the tendons shift as his fingers move. his gross, blue veins pulse so hard it hurts. he scrapes his long, frayed nails across the inside of his palms. baseball players can't have nails like this. that's a choice he's making. fucking his hands up… that's just another choice he's making.

he's fine.

maizono stares at him, with cloudy blue-grey eyes. "kuwata-kun?"

he breathes. the stale air in his room stinks, an unpleasant salty concoction of bodily fluids and unwashed clothes. okay, he's been with girls who, like, actually stank, you know… down there. but, urgh, even like this, even with perfect pure maizono, he hates the lingering smell of sex. it's like rotting fish. gross, and unappealing, and a major turn-off. he breathes. his head spins.

"look, you wanted this, right?"

leon doesn't know what he wants.

she furrows her brow at him. storm-grey eyes, somehow still gentle in their fury. "okay. be like that then."

maizono's too polite to actually stalk off, but she closes the door behind her just a little too firmly. the click of the lock jolts at the nape of his neck, and leon flinches.

he's not… he's not dirty. he's not like that fucking lardass yamada, or that fukawa freak, jilling off to fucking fishermen. he doesn't have any freakish fantasies he can't live without. god forbid, he's absolutely nothing like ikusaba -- and jesus christ, why the fuck ikusaba is allowed in this school when leon's seen the way she looks at poor enoshima. he hates ikusaba so much, because, like, it's not okay to want to fuck your goddamn little sister -- it's the single most revolting thing leon can think of, and every time he bothers to go to their classes, he can feel her fucking presence, and it makes him want to puke, and eventually he decided he just wouldn't put up with it any longer.. he can't understand why enoshima puts up with it. why she's letting her sister's grime build up on her.

except, of course, for the part where leon completely understands.

phantom hands slither down his back. maizono's, or kanon's -- which, he doesn't know. he wants to rip his skin off.

eating _erabu_ snake was supposed to help with pregnancy, he's heard. he imagines that beast, curled up in a stomach, wrapped around a womb -- imagines venom leaching out, into his muscles and veins.

he's disgusting. he's used goods. he's broken. why didn't he say no? why did no one listen?

he's rock-hard.

he takes a very cold shower. The water swills at his feet, his drain clogged up with long strands of blue-black hair.

maizono sits with naegi, the next day, tucking her head in next to his, and doesn't spare leon a single glance.

the emptiness in him pulses. leon wonders if enoshima is into models.


End file.
